


The Great Dance

by Morieris



Category: Ever After High
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morieris/pseuds/Morieris





	The Great Dance

Duchess hated this time of the month.

It was painful and oftentimes bloody.

Even her grandmother Cyrine did not like walking into the girl’s bedroom and shaking her awake gently. She never even had to finish her statement; “Duchess, my dear...”

* * *

 

Then Duchess rose, sitting on the edge of her bed for a moment. Psyching up. Putting on one of her simple white leotards, identical stockings, and her not so new slippers. Tying her hair into a bun. 

The night was warm; Duchess kept to the shadows as she walked down the lane from her family castle; Through the small village where decent families slept the work of the day away. To the other side of town, into the watery woods.

Branches never touched her; Twigs never disrupted her step. She danced through the branches without a misstep; A good warmup.

The familiar pond. Unkempt how she liked it. Every time someone attempted to tame the weeds or cattails, the equipment would be destroyed. 

 The familiar figure. The woman with a black dress and tutu that was constantly shedding feathers but never seemed to run empty. Dark hair that seemed almost purple in the moonlight stopped just past her collar. Identical feathers stuck out of her freckled shoulders and neck. Long fingers held blood-red nails at the end of extended arms. Her deep red slippers were en point as she stood upon the surface of the lake.

The woman turned very slowly to face her, and Duchess realized that her psyching up had done no good.

“So...” Engira Swan sneered down her nose, red eyes squinting. “This is how you respect your mother, wearing your  _best_  and  _oldest_  attire.”

Duchess bit back a retort.  _You drag me out here in the middle of the night, when it’s darker than a witches’ -_ but absolutely anything could set her mother off. And  _anything_  was very quickly becoming  _everything_.

So she curtsied and stepped onto the water. Engira looked behind her in fright, feathers rising, before turning back to her daughter. 

“Begin.”

And Duchess began to dance around the lake. Slowly at first - who knew how long she had to go this time. She thought it was going better than expected until an ugly honk sounded. “ _Brisé_!” 

Duchess did so quickly, holding the pose for a moment. When no admonishment was forthcoming, she continued her impromptu routine.

“Faster!”

She picked up the pace just a touch more, still trying to conserve stamina.

“ _Grande jeté_! Again!  _Again_!”

Some moves - you just didn’t go from a certain one to another. Not only would it break the illusion of etherealness - but it could very well injure the dancer. 

Something Engira wanted.

“Go! Go!” 

For Duchess it was simply, purely dark. So fast was her dancing all she saw were black blurs with a smear of shining moonlight, black - black  - white - black - white - black - 

“Hold!”

The girl was just about to leap into the air to maybe gain a second of rest. She held in the uncomfortable position, slightly bent at the waist, left arm out to the side, right one parallel to her legs.

Engira was looking around again, stalking across the pond, mumbling curses and foul thoughts. 

_At least they’re not directed at me for once._

“You know...dear, why I push you.” The statement came out in a low, maniacal voice that her daughter could hear even from ten feet away

Duchess’ back was starting to seize up. “Yes?”

“So you can take my role,” Engira was panting now, her hair disheveled, hands clenching and loosening. “Free me from this curse...you’re...just...expendable.  _Expendable_!” She was shouting now, “I have no legacy, just pain, just  _you_  -  well you wretchling, you are - you’re going to -”

She stopped, gliding over to her daughter, frowning down at her with a truly frightening mixture of anger and insanity. “You are going to  _stay there_ , until I come back.”

And then she had turned into her true form - the black swan - and flew away. 

Minutes turned into hours. Duchess couldn’t decide what hurt more - her body or her heart. She wasn’t particularly  _fond_  of her mother - there was certainly no love there.

 _But it isn’t her fault? I guess? This terrible destiny..._ But even she couldn’t believe that, as her grandmother was the White Swan in the past -  _but that’s White...great-grandmother? Which one was she a-again -_

Her legs almost gave out, but she knew the consequences of disobeying her mother’s orders.

The pale pinkness of dawn began to claw over the horizon. Even if Duchess wanted to move, she couldn’t. Engira had probably forgotten about her, went back to whatever miserable existence she lived in the day time -

“Duchess? Oh my wand - Duchess!”

Grandmother had come to the edge of the pond, eyes wide and terrified. “Did she - did she have you out here all  _night_?”

All she could reply with was a nod.

“That - I can’t -” quickly, the older woman rose to the top of the pond herself, taking Duchess by the arm, slowly helping her to stand up properly. “Can you stand, dear?” 

The girl would have fallen through the water and sunk had her grandmother and her magic slippers not kept her upright. 

“I can’t believe her - “ 

“Grandmother she’s not well -”

“No. Don’t make excuses for her, my little swan - and how could you? She is a monster! Black Swans in our family are alluring, mysterious and dangerous - not sadistic.” Cyrine half carried her granddaughter back, talking all the while. 

“You are never doing that again. No more night visits -  _no more_! She can teach you nothing about your destiny that reasonable people cannot. As long as I stand in Swan Castle, I am never letting that daughter of mine abuse you like this again!”

Duchess shook with both weariness and sadness. “Oh, grandmother...I’m so -”

Cyrine patted her on the cheek. “I know dear, I know. Some breakfast and right to bed with you.”

“Then...lessons?” A new layer of shaking - fear - started up in her heart - “With Madame Ferou?”

“...If you feel up to it, hon. I won’t force you.”

So Duchess Swan took her much needed food and rest, and for the most part, things returned as normal. Her grandmother had gone in her place the next fateful meeting night, and Engira had disappeared from the area.

But now Duchess slept with a nightlight.

 


End file.
